Why are Christians supposed to be so happy....

It took me ten months after I lost Wyatt to open the Bible and read it. Really read it. Not just following along with the Pastor on Sundays. I believe that that was partly due to the grief process but also trying to sludge my way through a graduate program that I no longer care about. For a year I've asked everyone questions about God, prayer, and if being a believer actually makes a difference. No one has been able to sufficiently give rest to my questions so, for me, the Bible was the last place to search. It's interesting that in writing that last sentence it's apparent that it should have been the first place I looked.

In my reading I have jumped around a little, but I find the New Testament most important to me at this time. I'm not sure what I expected would happen when I read the Bible but I have received an amazing peace about it. I can't even point out a specific passage that I can show you and say "This was it. This answered my questions".  The apostles have a way of writing that shuts down my doubt and questioning. They are very point blank. Jesus came. He suffered greatly for us because God loves us. We should worship God because we were not and are not worthy of that sacrifice. We are fallen but God saved us anyway. So love God and love one another. Period. I was happy to discover (unlike so many textbooks) that there is no fluff in the Bible. Everything serves a purpose. If I still "what ifs" after the important and urgent message that the apostles give us, then my "what ifs" don't need to be addressed. I don't need to know why. I recently had surgery to correct the horrible cesarean we had to save Wyatt. Instead of being a healing experience, it has left the door open for yet another impending surgery. Why has this happened to me? Why can't God cut me a little bit of slack, certainly we've had enough for one year. Last week I found myself feeling less than loved by our creator so I took the Bible and sat down with a notebook. All of complicated feelings come down to one basic question: Do I believe in God? I wrote it at the top of a page. I cannot look at everything in this world and believe it was an accident. I also cannot believe that humans do not have meaning, so yes, I will always believe in God. If I believe in God and Jesus then it comes down to another very simple idea. I have to believe what the Bible says. It doesn’t matter if I don’t feel loved or if I can’t see God working in my life. He says it so it is true. I can’t be like a liberal and pick and choose the commandments that I will follow (you knew I’d throw that in!). I will pray because God says to. I will worship Him because I know how faulty I am and yet he saved me anyway. I would not have given Wyatt’s life for anyone else and God gave Jesus for all of us. So it is interesting that what stopped my questions were not answers after all. It was just God.

All of this left me with wandering how Christians are expected to be happy through a life that is so hard. The Bible says we have victory but I don’t see any Christians on earth having more victory than anyone else. Some of my dearest Christian friends have gone through more suffering than most people I know- Tyler and I included. If Christians are God’s people then why do we have to put up with the crap that we do. Let me illustrate this further:
The news this morning spoke of a sculpture of the Ten Commandments in front of a courthouse in Florida that had been ordered to be removed. Everyone in the community was fighting to keep it since everyone in the town wanted it there. It was the American Civil Liberties Union that was having it removed. Don’t you love them? How about the cross that was left standing at Ground Zero that is also being fought against to keep it out of the new Freedom Tower? What about those of us who suffer miscarriages and are spoken to about the “content of our uterus”? Even though it’s not offensive us moms who knew it was a baby, no one will say it. It’s truly exhausting. I want to rest in the Lord like he instructs us to do, but I still long to see some Christian victories on earth. That’s ok, isn’t it?

Aside from receiving peace for my doubts, I also began to understand one other important thing. It all depends on how you look at earth. Since it is all that we see and feel and touch, it is very important to us. God gives us glimpses of the other side so that we can have hope, but earth can still seem much more real. Largely I feel that it remains a mystery to many. That might be why you see thieves shaking before they are hanged and serial killers weep before they are injected. We fear the unknown. Or we fear what we knew but ignored. This life might seem long to us (I know when you’re in physical pain it feels like an eternity) but it’s really so short. It’s nothing. That is hard to wrap our minds around but it’s true. Fashions come and go. Our cars and homes that we are so proud of fail us. Our Ipads are already outdated. Everything that we try desperately to enjoy will be gone before we know it. But eternity is forever. I don’t pretend to understand how long eternity even is. My simple human mind cannot grasp it. But I do know it is exceedingly longer than our lives here on earth. And then what? All the politics, all the protesting, everything that we fight our way through life for…….then what? And its’ that moment that is so crucial, the “then what” moment. Because that’s when followers of Jesus have victory. That doesn’t seem like a big deal if earth is a big deal. But if I realize that earth is not what’s important than the moment of victory is a big deal. God wins in the end, whether someone believes there is an end or not. Because Jesus suffered for me, I can see my son again one day. Earthly struggles don’t last forever so not matter what I’m going through now, there will be an end. This isn’t it. It’s not all there is. That’s why Christians can be happy. I can lose my son. I can be in physical pain. I can fight my way through an increasingly anti-Jesus population, but this is not the end. I have victory because of Jesus. So why not give it all I have now for God? In this short amount of time I have here on earth, why not make a difference? Some lyrics at church last week stuck out to me. It said “Everything I am for Your kingdom’s cause. As I walk from earth into eternity”. That’s just it. We are all on our way to eternity, with every breath that we take. So I am determined to spend the rest of my life living for Him. What that looks like, I will figure out as I go! After all, it’s the least I can do.
   

The Christmas Story for the first Time

The holidays this year were the more challenging of my life but it was also the most meaningful of my life. It was hard to hang up Wyatt's stocking or answer my daughter's questions on Christmas morning as to why Santa forgot Wyatt. I wish my son had been here for Christmas. I wish I still wasn't in so much pain that it was hard to eat Christmas dinner. It hardly seems fair that 5 months later we are still dealing with the fall-out of major surgery. My 6 year-old told me she didn't want kids because of the cut I had and they way "they" take babies out. I ended up revealing God's way of having babies be born and she seemed much more ok with that.
This year, however, I can easily say is the first year that I "got it". My entire life I've known why we have Christmas. I've preached that it's not about the presents, it's about Jesus. But really it was still about the presents. And the lights on the house. And the music. And the cool wrapping paper. And the snacks I could bake and feed everyone. And the friends I could impress. I even said "Merry Christmas" instead of "Happy Holidays" and was relieved that my children were still allowed to have "Christmas" parties at school. I passed along those emails preaching to other people about the true meaning of Christmas. I've been a Christian my whole life and I didn't even get it enough to know that I didn't get it.
And then I lost my son.And then a few weeks ago my family sat down to watch the "Nativity Story" on dvd so that I could try and show my kids the true meaning of Christmas. I realized how far off the mark we were when I explained to her that it was only about Jesus and she replied "Then what are all the presents for?" I wanted to answer that it was because the wisemen gave Jesus gifts, but seriously, who are we trying to kid? How far from the wisemen's gifts have we come? For the past two weeks it's taken me 45 minutes to get two blocks down the road because of the shopping traffic. So as we watched the movie I thought of what it really would have been like for Mary. How a mother feels when she is pregnant. She seemed obliging to God for whatever His plan was but certainly she had to love her baby like the rest of us love ours. Hindsight is 20/20 and we all know the details of why Jesus came and what he went through. But take that away for a moment. Try and know only what Mary would have known. God sent His son. He had a plan. He was going to be a king and savior. Did she know he had to die to save all of us from the crap that we do? Would she have been so obliging to that? I know that God is God, but when I look at my children's faces I cannot fathom them being tortured and killed to save everyone on this planet from sin. It might sound terrible but I don't care about anyone else that much. Those are my babies. If people want to make bad choices then that's their own problem. I watched the scene of Mary and Joseph holding their baby in a new way, with a new mind. I started crying looking at the face of the baby and thinking of the scenes in the Passion of the Christ where Jesus is ridiculed and tortured. That poor baby! That poor man! I will never be able to fathom what the weight of the world felt like on his shoulders. Jesus seemed to be obliging to God's plan as well but I'm sure he wasn't thrilled about it. I started thinking about everything bad I've done in my life. From the small things, like tiny lies or being disgruntle with the kids when there was no cause, to the larger things, like less than appropriate behavior, a divorce etc. So much of life was spent thinking certain things were important. Things that I thought were important. But they weren't really. They weren't at all. Everything I've ever thought was important, from my looks to things that I own, are not important at all. I couldn't be a good person if I tried. Not the kind of person God and Jesus want us to be. I could never avoid a snicker here and there at someone's expense. I can't be a perfect mother, although I try so hard. I was a pain in the ass daughter and I'm sure I'm the same kind of wife at times. I can't save myself from the bad things I do. But Jesus did. He did that for people he didn't even know. He did that, literally, for the people who killed him. I can't imagine Mary's pain, watching her son fullfill God's plan. When Wyatt passed away I was mad at God for so long. He and I still have some business to work out. I couldn't believe that was part of His plan. There had to be a better plan. I think Mary thought the same thing- there could've been a better, less painful way. I know that Jesus was part of a plan. I am not sure if Wyatt was, but I can't help but think of similarities in the way a mother feels about their baby. I think a lot of us just assume we going to heaven while we sit down and enjoy our lives in whatever way pleases us. I want to go to heaven. I have a son I need to go meet. And I'm finally learning that earth is not all it's cracked up to be. We get one body and mine is having trouble working right now. Thank God there is more than this life. THANK GOD there is something way better because this place sucks.
So this Christmas I sang the Christmas carols in a different way. I'm much more grateful that Jesus was born. Thank you, Jesus. Thank you for being born. Thank you God for saving me from myself. Thank you for allowing me to go to a better place than earth! I watched the Polar Express with my kids feeling all the magic and wonder of that movie, wishing there really was a Santa Claus. But this year I feel like there is something just as amazing. The story of Jesus being born. Merry Christmas!

Free-thinkers, Society, and Birth

Several weeks ago my husband came home with a story of a fellow co-worker who was almost do for their first baby. "She's sick of being pregnant", "Just wants the baby out", and "The doctor says they'll induce her" were some of the things that were said. Both of us were immediately concerned and confused as to why someone would simply let a doctor interfere with the natural birth process if nothing were wrong. I grabbed one of my resources and started researching induction. The statistics are terrible. Basically, if you don't want surgery, don't let the doctors do ANYTHING! First time pregnancies go an average of 42 weeks. At 40 weeks you haven't even reached full gestation. Babies come when they are ready. Doctors induce at 40 weeks, labor rarely kicks in (unless the baby was about to come anyway) which leads to a c-section since the doctors have now messed with things. When labor does kick in during an induction the contractions are so abnormally strong that the baby often goes into distress therefore creating a need for a c-section. It's most often a one-way road to not a bad birth experience. The following week my husband reported that instead of induction the doctors had decided to simply "strip her membranes". This made my heart drop more. A few weeks prior I had connected with a women who's doctor had done the same procedure. This is essentially when the doctor pushes the bag of waters away from the cervix making it weaker in hopes of inducing labor. This women that I met went home that night and started labor but also developed severe pain, chills, and a high fever. They called the hospital several times and the hospital said that women always have chilld in labor. This is not only not true but usually happens around the time of transition. This women waited at home until her gut feeling drove her and her husband to go in. When they got there someone finally realized that something was very terribly wrong. She ended up having an emergency c-section and treated for a massive internal staph infection. The baby died shortly after birth because it was so severely infected. This had happened because her doctor stripped her membranes. Staph infections come from the outside and wouldn't find their way up the birth canal unless it was brought there by another source, like a doctors hand. The infection was also SO strong that it spread that fast and killed her baby. Virulent infections such as that are only found in hospitals and medical facilities. There was no need for her doctor to have taken any action at all. Our bodies are perfect and know what they are doing, much more so than doctors. This lady, like myself, found herself recoverying from massive surgery and grieving a baby.
My husband and I talked about mentioning the risks to this coworker but decided they weren't close enough and the work environment was conducive enough. Yesterday we heard the baby was born.....via c-section, and mom's "in some pain". Really? No kidding. I started crying when Tyler told me that. Her first baby. Her first birth experience. And she has to spend the next year recovering instead of walking around holding and smiling with her baby. She'll have to fight hospitals tooth and nail to try a vbac, if she even decides to try that route. If not she'll undergo more cesareans only to double and triple her scar tissue, adhesions, recovery time and increase her chances every single time of a twisted bowel, ruptured uterus, blood transfusion, cutting the baby and the list goes on and on. Why would someone simply follow what a doctor wanted without asking questions? Why do any of us do that? Isn't there any intuition left for any of us to follow?
It was very clear to me today in my daughter's first grade classroom. I don't honestly think there is much intuition left or that we allow ourselves to hear it. I think it comes from the society that we are living in. We breed our independ thoughts out of people at an early age. Let's face it, only a nation of followers and not independent thinkers would have voted in the current administration. The less people think, they more they accept. Today was my daughter's Christmas party in her classroom. I volunteered to go in and make Gingerbread houses with the kids. I sat there as the teacher explained the directions. They were very simple: use the frosting as glue, use the graham crackers as sides of the house, use the candy to decorate. The instructions lasted ten seconds but the questions the kids had lasted ten minutes. "Can we make a door?" "Do we need windows?" "Can I make a roof?" "Does the roof have to be pointed?" "Do the colors have to match?" and it went on and on. These kids are so used to following directions to a 'T' that they couldn't understand when the teacher told them "There are no rules. Just have fun". Even after she added that line the questions still came. This was a room full of 6 and 7 year olds and they couldn't even feel free enough to just build a house however they wanted to. It took a long time but it seemed like they were unable to think on their own....already! I'm even guilty of teaching my kids to "read the instructions", and "follow the directions". Unfortunately my son has a teacher who is often wrong and he never stands up for himself. I have a folder of papers that she's mispelled, marked wrong when they are right or marked right when they are wrong. He comes and tells me "but mommy she was wrong" but he doesn't feel like he can say that to her, even when I tell him to. Why? Because she's the teacher. Just like we act around doctors. We're all so good at following directions instead of following common sense. Our doctors tell us "you'll need a c-section" and we nod our heads and go "okay" because they're the doctors and surely they know best. They say we need to be induced and even if their is a voice in our heads that says "my baby's just fine" we nod our heads because that is the almighty doctor. We need to value our own wisdom more. We're smart people and we don't give ourselves enough credit. Question authority. Figure out your feelings. Make decisions for yourself. Teachers are just waiting to retire. Doctors are just avoiding lawsuits and want to make it home for dinner. Take care of you and your family because nobody else is going to.  
It's been four and a half months since my cesarean and I was up all last night in extreme pain. I had to crawl my way out of the bedroom so that I wouldn't wake up my husband. To make matters worse I've shown my records to a list of doctors in several states. The morning my son was born we had an ultrasound that showed things were getting worse. The doctor said "we need to take him now". Other doctors since then have said that according to everything that was happening on the ultrasounds, it was obvious my son was dying and would not just be fine the minute he was born. So my doctor had one of two motivations. Do a c-section to show that you "tried" to save the baby so that I can't turn around and sue her. Or collect the 40k in insurance money that a cesarean costs before you send me home. Doctors are not honest and they very rarely care about you. God did not intend babies to be born in such a way. Surgeries are good when what the doctors will do to you is better than what is happening to you. Unfortunately this is not always the case. Research. Read. Ask questions. Get empowered. Or you'll fall inline like cattle and not be in control of your own life.

Capacity for Love

It's interesting to me that throughout all of the darkness and pain of the past 5 months I've also experienced love on a deeper level. I've always loved my children more than anything, but I have loved them deeper and cherished them more since I've lost a child. To some extent, while loving them, I still took them for granted. We never got pregnant thinking we were asking for a gift from God. We just assumed that most people get pregnant and this is what we wanted for our lives. I took for granted the fact that my children were alive everyday. I've heard before that you can't have one side of an emotion without having the other; like you can't hurt deeply unless you love deeply. In some strange way I am finding that to be very true. I couldn't cherish my children in the same way that I do today without having experienced all of that hurt from losing Wyatt. They amaze me everyday. Every funny thing they say and do. Every independent act the achieve on their own. My daughter is trying to discover her own sense of fashion while checking with us every three seconds that she is still pretty. Lexi is spitting out a new word everyday. I wake up to "Mommy! Where'dya go?" on the baby monitor. My son, bless his heart, has learned how to surf the internet. Not only is it time for parental controls to be installed BUT I'm amazed that he is old enough to surf. I was in 7th grade learning how to "open a window" and "double-click". I look at these things in a profound way, much different than before, although not with more love than before. I almost feel like a philosopher throughout the day and it renders silent most of the time. I haven't spent enough time as an observer in life, I think. I look at my kids and all children for that matter as these tiny, new beings that look at everything we find boring with absolute amazement. They love unconditionally and with their whole heart. When I thought my daughter was being irriating she was really just wanting to be near me. When Lexi wants me to read her the same book AGAIN it's because she love hearing me read it, and I should be honored instead of upset. Birth is amazing. Life is amazing. Children are amazing. They aren't old and tired and boring like I am. I've spent my whole life being as productive as possible every single day until I collapsed into bed for not-enough-sleep ever single night. For once I am getting 8 hours of sleep. I'm not very productive since Wyatt left us. I am not taking classes. I didn't sew the kids Halloween costumes. I've barely started Christmas shopping. But my house is clean and I'm spending a lot of time with the kids. Good time, like I haven't spent in a long while. I'm rested and I'm taking vitamins, things I've never done before.There are moments, at least one a day, that something about Wyatt brings me to tears. It's always right there in my throat, and it comes out when I dust his urn or see his pictures or think about how he was supposed to be in this years Christmas picture. But I'm usually ok. I've developed this thought pattern where I say to myself "That's my son's urn, and that's ok. I'm ok". Something no parent should ever have to say but it works. It calms me down. Aside from feeling a deeper love for my children, I've felt true love from my husband and friends. People have come to love us and support us that I never would have thought. Our church stepped up and took care of us. My husband stepped up and took care of myself and the kids since I was unable, both physically and emotionally. Even my girlfriends who I thought I were lifelong friends anyway pulled through one more time for me while I was in need and didn't even know it. I may never be able to understand it but it's taken a deep pain for me to be able to feel and understand deep love.
As I've survived the past few months I've found myself asking questions about God and life. For the first few weeks I was pretty sure there was no God. How could children die if there were? Now I'm back to knowing that there is a God and I believe Jesus came, but I don't understand a lot. Why did God create us? Why do we mourn if earth isn't all it's cracked up to be? Ecclesiastes 5 and 6 talks about how a person with a sad life is better off never having been born. When Wyatt passed that was what so many people told us, "he just gets heaven before we do". So then why do we have children? Why do we have that deep desire to procreate and love and raise a child? Why does it ruin us when there are fertility issues? Logically shouldn't we just be happy that any children we were to have don't have to live here on earth? What really happened with Wyatt in utero? Has everything in life I've attributed to God really been God? I know He listens, but does He really guide or help us? I asked him all of this and more this morning. I realized I had never actually asked Him, I had just asked everyone else. I'm still waiting for His response. I also reminded Him that He gave me my brain so he must be thoroughly amused with the way that it's working right now. I've asked Him for months to give me a sign that Wyatt is ok and that He is God, but I'm still waiting for that as well.
I've mustered up the courage to be out in the world again with the normal people. I started volunteering at church and it's been really fun. I just hope no one noticed I was late in skipping the screen to the next set of lyrics when I started playing with Wyatt's necklace around my neck and zoned out. I'm not sure I'm feeling the fullfillment that I should be from helping out. I think I'm supposed to be serving. People thank me for helping and I'm not sure what to say. Maybe the feeling will come. We did children dedications today where families gave children back to God. I hadn't thought of my children like that before. I thought I had to raise them right, but I always thought of them as more mine than His. I'm pretty sure that's wrong. I'm also pretty sure that if there were ever a time I considered more children that I would have to understand why we want another child to be on earth and to see the act of having a child as receiving a precious and temporary gift from God to be stewards of.
Aside from church, It actually seems that nothing is really fullfilling me at the moment. I need to find solid ground with God again. I don't feel like I can really go on until I know what in the world I am doing here, why there is so much pain, if I can really rely on God, and if heaven really is as awesome as we think. I need that back in place. Until then I will keep waiting for answers and loving my children more than I ever knew I could.

Surgery, Doctors, and Decisions

I started writing this blog with the thought that no one would read it. It's me talking to a computer screen. If I think about people reading this I tend to edit and censor and that's counterproductive to any therapeutic effect. That being said, it is frustrating when things are taken out of context. I usually write when my emotions are high and I need an "out". Perhaps I am not extremely eloquent or don't explain something well enough. I won't apologize; I type extremely fast, let everything out and then I usually feel better. I'm not in a great place right now, that almost goes without saying. I'm not expected to be. I've met families who lost their babies years ago and you can still see the pain on their faces. It changes a person. It has changed us. I'm not sure what I've "changed into" yet, and I know the process is far from done. Some babies are miscarriages, some or stillborn and then some are like Wyatt who live for just a short amount of time. Most scenarios that I hear of are cut and dry- the baby died in the womb for unknown reasons, the cord tied a knot on itself etc. With Wyatt there was so much grey and there still is in the aftermath. Doctors told us things that didn't make sense and could only give us so much evidence. We are supposed to believe them, because they're doctors, but I've been around doctors too long to know that you don't ever take anything at face value. Doctors vary as much as individual humans do. Each hospital has it's own way of doing things. Each doctors operates differenlty based on their worldview, upbringing, location of their schooling, and who they interacted with as a resident. So when a doctor says something HAS to be a certain way, it's almost never true. I never knew how grey the area of medicine was. It's all just a big guess. Some people have felt like the c-section shouldn't bother me. What no one knows is all of the physical mess that has happened (aside from Wyatt) because I happened to get a doctor who (and I quote) thinks "uteruses are overrated". I had the OBs in the hospital telling me "It has to be a c-section" but when I talk to Ob's outside of this region they've only heard of this happening, never practiced it. We made the best choices we could at the time. We had no where to go and very little time. In other places I've lived I would have driven to Oklahoma City or Dallas or San Antonio for second opinions. Boise is this tiny little island in the middle of nowhere with two hospitals for the next 15 hours. So when we are faced with people telling us "Things have to be this way!", what do we do? I fought every doctor that I could. I was wheeled into surgery just wishing to give birth. Turns out instincts are right and that's what is hard to cope with. I should've listened to my instincts. This advice was also coming from the all-wise physicians who told us if we went home at 24 weeks Wyatt would die in less than a week. And then he grew and thrived for another three weeks. It's funny how doctors can be wrong in that case but then still expect you to listen to them in all other aspects. When Wyatt was looked at and was shown growing and well in the womb they looked dumbfounded. They didn't have a clue. So when they told us "It has to be a c-section" what they really meant was "Well, we don't really have a clue what's going on and we can't tell you why. It seems to me that a c-section might be a good route because, well, that's my best guess". I wish doctors would tell you things like that, which are, in fact, the truth. Wyatt died when he wasn't supposed to because another all-wise doctors apparently didn't now when an air tube was supposed to go. So then we get sent home, cut open and with our baby in an urn and there's no accountability to be had. No one is responsible, apparently, for wrong directions, bad procedures, and and just plain bad advice.
So as the weeks go by and these issues circulate through our minds it's natural for me to start doing research. I am researching like I should've been BEFORE all of this happened, if I had had more time. I've stumbled on amazing statistics about America's healthcare system (and I am not for ONE MINUTE advocating government run healthcare! No way!) BUT giving birth is one of the few areas that actually violates several different acts, including Hipaa. A patient always has the right to refuse surgery, unless of course it's a women in labor who doesn't want a c-section, and then she's pretty much left to give birth on the sidewalk. If she wants hospital care, it has to be a c-section. Doctors want to go home, they want to get paid, they don't want to sit around and wait for something natural to occur no matter how many days or hours it takes. For all of our interventions we have one of the highest maternal and infant mortality rates in the world! Some people have acted like c-sections aren't a big deal but what they aren't aware of are the membranes that are cut and never repared, the damage done to your abdominal muscles, your intestines, the damage that adhesions can do, and scare tissue etc. It's not pretty. I'm upset at the surgery but I'm upset at the lack of honesty. Why can't a doctors say "This is what I think, but here are ALL of your options in this situation..."? That would make it easier to think about what our bodies need and want. The lab coats blind us into thinking these are people who know everything.
Without Wyatt here I've had nothing else to linger on and no positive outlook to the surgery that was done. If I was holding him, yes, it would be easy to say "You were worth it buddy". And he was. I begged God to take me, I would've given Wyatt any body part he needed. It's so so easy to lose sight of that when all I have are unanswered questions and pictures of my little boy. It's so easy to forget why we tried to have him in the first place when he was going to die anyway. Hindsight sucks. My faith is rocked. I feel stuck everywhere but in the present. I am in the past worrying about everything that happened and trying to go back and make different decisions. And I am in the future, worrying about everything that might happen because of all of this. It's very hard to just be. Some people think I'm crazy and that's ok. Maybe they're right. It's funny, though, meeting other families who have lost their newborns- they don't think we are nuts. They just cry and say "We've been there, too". So maybe my thoughts and feelings are scary to people who don't understand. Heck, I don't even understand. But I'm letting it happen, one day at a time.

Due Dates Nearing

Right now I would've been 37 weeks pregnant and Wyatt would have come any day. I never made it past 38 weeks with any of my kids. The house seems especially empty this past week. Just when I thought that I just might be ok it was like the bubble popped. I've been sinking farther down for a few days now. I remember dreading bringing Wyatt home because it would be October and probably pretty cold. But I was wrong, it has been warm and sunny and we've spent a lot of time outside as a family. This would've been perfect to bring him home in. I just pictured October as being much different, completely ready for a new baby. Now there's not one trace to show that we were supposed to be bringing Wyatt home. There's no crib, no infant car seat. Lexi has no little brother to stare at and point to. She recently learned the sign for "baby" and points to baby's when we are out. I wonder if she would've made the sign for Wyatt. I have some of his pictures up by my bed, his urn, and the many signs my 6 year-old has hung around the house. They read things like "I hope you fun up in hevin and spending time with God", "I wish you were here, you would have been a great kid", and "Sleep in peace, Wyatt". Then she drew a picture of her handing Wyatt to God. Why do these things have to be in my life? Why does my young daughter have to draw pictures of her handing her baby brother to God? It's still so painful. It's been 10 weeks and it's like it was yesterday. We are still smoothing out the medical issues that came out of just the c-section. At the very least I'll have another surgery around January but who knows what else needs to be done. The scenarios go around and around in my mind, with the choices we made and what we could've done instead. If we would've lived somewhere with better healthcare, if we had been able to get a second opinion, if we weren't so isolated here in this stupid city, if we would've known that Wyatt would die we would have at least given birth and not bothered with a c-section. Life now would at least be physically less painful for me.
I have so many questions about faith and God. I find myself reading stories about heaven to the kids and realizing that I need this information just as much as they do. I'm like a little kid starting from scratch with the most basic questions about God and the world. I have no answers at all and I've never felt farther from God in my life. One things I have found is that this whole world suffers. My tragedy is not unique. I've met so many other people through this experience that have lost babies. This makes me more sensative to all the different kinds of suffering there are in the world. Starving kids in Africa is no longer a joke at dinner time. The thought of a dying child breaks my heart. It's real and it happens. I don't doubt there's a God. I do doubt how much He is doing on earth. Maybe we are supposed to just pray and have faith and expect nothing from Him. Some people die when they shouldn't, some people live when they shouldn't. It's not fair, so is it really God? Is God unfair? Or is He not responsible for the healing or the dying, maybe those are just things that happen in this crappy world.
So many people have told me that Wyatt just gets to be in heaven before we do. If that's so wonderful than why are we trying to keep people from dying? Doesn't that mean that everyone alive is getting the short end of the stick? Why do we even have kids? Why do we have that desire if we really believed heaven was the best place to be? Even now, in the midst of all of this, I long to hold a baby in my arms. In one day I can come full circle from wanting to get pregnant right now to never ever considering getting pregnant again. My poor husband is helpless to watch, especially because I don't understand my moods either. Life has certainly taken it's toll on us. I knew the world wasn't great but couldn't the suffering have waited a few more years for us? I atleast expect about 15 more years of ignorance to the topic of suffering and tragedy.
The other night we had a good friend over who we hadn't seen in years. He and my husband had been great friends but now looked drastically different. Our friend was light and bubbly while my husband could only force smirks. I couldn't help but notice the dark circles under his eyes and how he looked like life had really beat him down. I feel terrible that life has been this way. It's just been too much for any human to take on. I'm not very content on earth anymore. I don't find enjoyment in songs or car rides or quiet times or even sitting in the sun (my favorite pasttime). Everything seems pointless and nothing seems important. Nothing quenches what I need...and I'm not even sure what that is. I want to be with Wyatt, wherever he is, and I feel guilty that life will suck one day for my kids as well, they just don't know it yet.
So as this week passes I wonder how Wyatt would've been born, if I would have finally gotten to the hospital in time to receive pain medication, if he would've been a good nurser, what doctor would've been there etc. What would his birthday have really been? What would he have been for Halloween? I always pictured standing with our neighbors, holding our newborn as the kids went trick-or-treating. All of these visions are not my reality and it makes me nauseous. We loved Wyatt. We would've been great parents. My husband is the only father on the block who is outside playing ball with the kids and being involved in their lives. He deserved a son. He would've been great.

How am I still alive?

In the past I had heard stories of loss and did the typical, gasp, sigh, and "Oh poor them" or "that's terrible". When I had heard stories about child or infant loss I'd usually add the thought or expression of "How did they get through that?" or "How are they even functioning now?". Especially if you can see who the story is about. You might see a woman smiling with her kids, knowing a sad background story of how she lost her spouse suddenly one day. Or parents running errands with their kids, knowing that they had lost a child tragically. They always look normal and you always wonder how they do it. Now I know. I know that they don't even know how they do it. In the last two weeks I've gotten groceries, done homework with the kids and gone to church. I've even cooked a few new tasty recipes. But I don't know how. I don't know where the energy comes from to get out of bed in the morning. I don't know how my clothes match or how I've been able to smile and manage small talk a few times. It's just happened. Somedays I am choking on tears all the way through, forcing the smiles out. Somedays I have moments where I think to myself "I'm ok right this second". Usually the days are followed by sad, lonely nights. I get all the kids to bed and look at the pictures of Wyatt on my night stand and the pain stabs me all over again. My heart feels hollow. It's a pain that I can't describe and I hope that no one else would ever have to feel again. It's empty, like my heart echos. Even if I had more children there would this very silent and still void. I'm not sure if the children feel it. Tyler and I do, and we can confirm it with just a look at one another.
Last night I was talking to my husband about things that have popped into my head during the day. For example, the most recent painful one is remembering giving Wyatt over to the nurses to be taken away. I had handed him to Tyler and Tyler asked if I wanted him back for a moment before he gave him over. I declined at the time, but the other day I panicked. Why didn't I take him back that one last time? Why didn't I tell him I loved him one more time? Or kiss his cheek or rub his soft hair against my cheek one more time? Why would I have said 'no'? The panic grips my heart and then aches as I realize I can't do anything about it. After telling this I then asked him "How are we still alive? How did we go through that and have come out living on the other end?" We both just shook our heads. Surely our hearts should have stopped beating the moment that Wyatt's did. I wish it would have. It only seems natural. How am I here and my son is not? How could I have survived one of those unbearable stories that you only hear about?
It should be noted that things are not great and will never be the same. Before I was in grad school with the three kids at home. Somehow I managed to juggle everything. "there are 24 usuable hours in every day" was my motto. Since Wyatt left us I can't multitask worth a darn. Tyler let me drive down the road to the store the other day. "Where are you going?" he asked on the way home. I had no idea where I was and only realized it when he asked the question. Even after he asked it was difficult to navigate my way back to familiar territory. I didn't know where I was, and honestly I didn't care. At times I have gone to turn the parking break off and turned the blinker on instead. Needless to stay I try and stay home as much as I can. How I ever did homework and took care of the kids I will never know. I'm not sure how I would ever do it again. I literally don't think straight. When I am thinking it's usually about God, and fate, and prayer and why? I don't understand anything anymore. My life has no solid foundation. I have housework to do, birthdays to plan and holidays to prepare for. I have 'thank you' cards still from Wyatt's memorial to be filled out and photo albums to fill of him. It's all happening slowly and in my own time. I hope that doesn't sound selfish but I'm doing all I can.
I miss my boy. I want to hold him again. I want to be with him.